Bitch Please, Middle Earth? Challenge Accepted
by OhGodmylastpennamewasshameful
Summary: So, one of those half-baked, cracked up ideas that every single shingle has done nowadays. Girls fall into Middle Earth, check. One of them is an elf (possibly), check. Hysteria ensues, because really only the douche bags would act serious as anything in Middle Earth. We all have to admit we would go to town and stroke every single one of the Dwarves' Beards.
1. Chapter 1

A Questionable Prologue For a Questionable Scuffle of this Story

Shit. My brains. Leaking. The first internal thoughts to leave my conscious. Why was sleeping so

hard, yet easy? Why did I have to wake up at six in the morning for school? Why world? Why?

And when in hell did sleeping get so… uncomfortable… and wet… and cold? After clutching empty air for five minutes I realised with melodramatic shock that I lacked a plushy duvet, so I plunged my face with eyes wide open into what I like to call 'life', or possibly 'shit-hole' on a bad day. Except today decided to be worse than a bad day as the delightful greeting of sheep salutations met my altogether far too sensitive ears.

"Sweet Jesus." I whispered. Wait, scratch that, I'm not elegant or stealthy enough for whispering. I screeched like the banshee from hell. This went on to awaken my so called partner in crime from her slumber about a metre away from me.

"Beatnik, I swear to god If your fucking crew has carried me to a field in the middle of Saffron Walden again claiming we're going on an adventure before stuffing me with what they called brownies, I will revoke your license to call on me when you lack a wing woman again." I vented all over her weak soul.

"I, will not lie, this wasn't me, or the crew, I've done no wrong, only slept till my feet bleed." She mumbled gaily .

"Cut the poetry crap." I snapped.

"But I'm an artist." she said with a sneer while pulling up a clump of grass and chucking it moodily at a lurking sheep.

"Please Bea. You can't simply draw a picture of naked Margaret Thatcher and claim yourself to be an artist."

"Back to the subject, where in hell are we? I had absolutely no part in this tomfoolery..."

"Maybe we where abducted, finally, and the abducters got tired or some shit and delivered us to… a sheep field?" I grasped around for some idea as to how I could be here, of all places, in pyjamas.

"Enough talking. Now we look." said Beatnik, going all serious voodoo shit on me and crawling along the ground like a liberal panther.

I looked around. Hills. Hills. More hills… the Hills have Eyes? That title is misleading for the mentals in us. Wait. Hills, Sheep, random teleportation with known friend. An idea of the whole cliche 'Two girls dropped in Middle Earth' came to mind. Like we would ever be lucky enough… Knowing us we where both kidnapped for our insane talent in getting completely high off nothing at all. Anywho, I leaped up to follow the demonically-possessed girl on the ground.

"Y'know, your hair looks longer…" She commented from the ground.

"Is that a good thing? You look… shorter. Much shorter." Eh. it was probably perspective. Godammit, I blamed everything on perspective. As we got to the edge of one of the hills Bea army-style peeked over, as I none-too-subtly stumbled up behind her.

"Holy shit."

"Holy shit." Before us lay the shire in all its glory, bathed in the sunlight of midday. Small hobbits wandered round looking merry as fuck, and I kid you not, children the size of my ankle ran round squealing like a pack of bats.

"We're… I… Good Tolkien and all above I might cry." At this Bea turned to me and slapped me straight in the face.

"Hell no. I let you cry while watching the Phantom of the Opera, even when you listen to the soundtrack for this place, but there is no way in all of Middle Earth you are fucking this up by creeping out every single one of the kick ass characters by crying. Man up, woman!"

"Ok. Crying, not allowed. Beatnik, you sure are short though… but not hairy enough for a dwarf. God dangit, you're a human." at this Bea cool whipped back my hair, then pretty much grabbed my ear causing me to squeal then giggle a little.

"Look at your ears! You're an elf."

"SUCKS TO BE YOU. I'm gonna be all pretty and shit, skipping round like a mofo…"

"Your hair might be longer but your face hasn't changed in the slightest. So you'll be a questionably plain elf."

"Wait… you're saying I'm… I'm not pretty?"

"Hate to break it to yah, but your face is delightfully uninteresting." At this point we had walked down and reached the first of the hobbit holes, after receiving more than a few glances from the joyful hobbits.

"Meh."

"Well, I suppose… to Bilbo's? Whatever age we're chilling in, something's bound to be happening there." I agreed with Bea's more than clever idea, and we then attempted to moon walk to the round green door of the Bagginses, as we had always discussed that we needed to arrive there in style. We failed at this, and went on to walk.

We arrived at the green circular door, and we both took a deep breath in.

"I swear if Frodo answers the door I might break inside." I said as my voice crack a little.

"Good to know. Let's hope it's Bilbo. I sorta wanna meet the dwarves before most of them die." Bea reached forwards and knocked swiftly against the door. Well sorta, she actually knocked along to the rhythm of the star wars theme tune, but that was more than relevant, so it was okay. It was then that the door was answered by a seemingly unflustered hobbit, looking pretty young (I mean on the levels of the 27 club. Wait, what?) and as we had absolutely no clue which Baggins boy he was, at which I giggled at Baggins boy, Bea greeted him.

"Ah, Mr Baggins?"

With that one phrase I found myself rolling on the floor laughing, before Beatnik grabbed me and trussed me up like a turkey and we sang songs around the fire and we all got married and took out a lone at the hobbit bank and trundled back to Gandalf and playing scrabble.

I'm kidding. The chapter actually ends with Bea's last line. I just thought it needed the word trussed in it.

So yeah. I wrote something. It happened to be a girls falling into Middle Earth fix, but The Hobbit style (because everyone has to admit now that dwarves are so much more kick ass than elves)! Hopefully this will bring merriment to the lives of a few hopeless souls, and will give me sanity in the long, uneventful nights of my life. Next chapter will be… soon?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of tolkien's characters. Only the two idiots who are going to psych themselves up, and then destroy all the elegance of the original story. Well-fucking-done modern world. Whoop-de-fucking-doo.**

**Bitch please, Middle Earth? Challenge Accepted.**

**Chapter 2**

So it seems the hobbit wasn't as glad as we where to see him. I first attempted to hug him, but Bea pulled me back and screeched in my ear 'Personal space'. Sheesh. When did people get so touchy about any of the grabby-feely?

Either way, we walked in elegantly (I mean barged and shoved until we got to the kitchen), before turning to Bilbo again, and with a pair of triumphant grins, asked (demanded) for food, clothing and a bed… I mean, c'mon, we where pretty much brothery-sistery things (In my mind. Remember, most of the crap you come out with you made up.) So Bilbo Baggins pulled his Swaggins on and turned to us. I could so imagine him flicking his hair and kicking his things like some ghetto gurl. Bilbo Swaggins.

"Leave my hole right now!" Bilbo Swaggins had some gutsy words.

"Awh, he calls it hole!" Said Bea before falling to the floor with an XD on her face.

"Bea, I wouldn't right now. Bilbo Swaggins is getting his booty-call-swag on." I replied, pulling her up.

"You speak in strange tongues! Are you some sort of fair folk who've come to wreck my house and my doilies? Also, you're hardly… well… your clothes are…" He gestured with agitation to my old primark leopard print pyjama shorts.

"Well, y'know, that is why we sorta wanted some cloth-" Swaggins cut me off. We weren't getting a word in on his ghetto-hobbit rant, apparently.

"And you come in here, demanding for my things when I don't even know you! It's preposterous, absurd! Leave, now, right now, before you ruin my second supper!" Me and Bea stared at him, keeping a straight face, looking him dead in the eye.

"Alright Mr. Swaggins..."

"It's Baggins!"

"Mr. _Swaggins, _it's no more mister nice guys plural. You're going to give us pretty hobbit dresses, a slice of ham and one of those cosy little spare rooms everyone knows you have, and then we're going to make friends. Or…" Bea whispered, her voice piercing like a knife (LOLWUT metaphor won't see another one of them in a while better hug it while you can)

"Or what?" I turned and grabbed a strategically placed spoon from the table, Bea grabbing a doily, before turning to Bilbo and holding them up threateningly.

"Or I'll spoon yah guts out, yah speccy-faced hobbit!"

"And I'll smother you… with a doily." I have to say, Bea's enthusiasm was lacking in this particular escapade. But it seemed to work. The adorable hobbit stared at the spoon with an unrivalled fear. I'm pretty sure even I peed myself a little, and I 'm the one holding the spoon.

With a spoon to his throat, Swaggins lead us to a small room with two hobbit beds, and floral material everywhere. I swear, I get that he probably got all of this shit from his mother (Oh Belladonna, you.), but really? I would've probably used it all by now as towels or tissues, because I'm too lazy to go to Tescos.

Anywho, he pointed us to a draw of clothes, before backing away slowly and running back to his wee armchair. As soon as he was gone, Bea and I descended upon the little hobbit dresses like angry vultures (LOLWUT metaphors I'm on a role). I picked a pretty pale blue one, and Bea a blood red one (Stupid, attention attracting fool. Christ, Bea, why'd you pick the red one?) And both had corsets. I swear to god, they're like black holes, but are you going to fall through the black hole? Noooo. The world has better plans for you. You're too fat for the black hole, so you get stuck halfway and then someone's all like, woopsies, might as well tighten it with some pretty ribbons just to screw up your lungs a little bit more. Also, because of our height, the skirts where a little short… (no higher than half way down my thigh, TRUST ME ON THIS) I attempted a little 'Les Mis' straight after, and lemme say, props to all corset-wearing singers.

Of course, Bea and I did what we always do. Make our outfits look effortlessly badass. And retarded. I stole some of Bilbo's little knitted gloves and cut off the fingers (I NEED MY FINGERS FOOL), before stealing a pair of tight-like things and cutting them to knee level. Zap in a leather jacket and leather boots with me secret Gmod gun (NOT a replica), and I'm all set. I turned to Bea, who looked like her normal self now. Black eyeliner (please don't ask me where she got the black liquid. I think she milks it out or something…), Dr. Martens, old hoodie. Screw it, I want a real Middle-earth experience. So, I threw my Gmod gun into the bottom of the wardrobe. Kudos to the next person to find that.

"Kick-ass. We're gonna be kick-ass. Middle earth won't see us coming. Let's go find Bilbo. Hell I hope we see Thorin soon. I need his majesticness." Bea mumbled.

"MAJESTY" I cried. Bea face-palmed.

It was the beginning of an era.

**So, I'm sensationally slow at updating. And I type so much crap. God, my life is a failure. Let's go dig my head into the ground…. OR….. I could eat some nutella-banana cake and listen to Disney princess songs? Yep. Sounds good.**

**Review please :D**


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